Abdullah shifted his body, showing his back to Zubair bin Tayer as he appealed to the others on the Shura. “It is the duty of a country to develop its people’s full potential, and to allow the smartest to build for the rest of us. So we should, as the government, be promoting education in the sciences, in medicine and mathematics. These are not un-Islamic studies. These are things that Islamic scholars created and promoted centuries ago at the height of our power. This is what we should be doing, not flogging students, not punishing acts which are halal.”
After an hour of highly agitated and excited debate, the Shura Council of the Republic of Islamyah adjourned without taking any action. Abdullah left the chamber quickly by a side door near his seat. Ahmed stuck to his side. “I am proud of you, brother,” Ahmed said when they slowed down in a corridor leading back to the director’s office.
“Now do you see why the sessions are not televised, as you proposed?” Abdullah laughed.
“No, all the more reason why they should be. The people would not stand for it. The people would support you against these Neanderthals,” Ahmed urged.
Back in the office, the brothers were joined by six of Abdullah’s supporters from the Shura. “Are you happy now, my friends?” he asked them.
“It was the right issue to pick, Abdullah. It makes it clear to the people that this is not a struggle about religion, but about its place in our government,” Ghassan bin Khamis said, patting Abdullah on the shoulder. Ghassan had been with Abdullah in exile in Yemen and was now head of one of his intelligence units.
“It is a struggle about whether we are part of the modern world,” Hakim bin Awad objected. “Modern states do not flog people. And people have a right to say what they think about laws. That’s why we overthrew the al Sauds, because they locked us up when we expressed ourselves against the things they were doing.”
“Ghassan, Hakim, you are both right. We did not fight to become the al Sauds — at least I didn’t,” Abdullah said, throwing himself down on one of the four couches that formed a semicircle in his office. He adjusted his robes. “I fought so that this country could breathe again, the way it did when our grandfathers were free in the desert. And so that it could be the people’s country, its own country, not some privately held company, part of some British or American network. Democracy our way.”
Ahmed was stunned. He had never heard his brother so articulate, so passionate, and so much in agreement with what Ahmed himself believed.
“We also need to lead the Arab world back to the leadership it once had in the arts, sciences, medicine, mathematics,” Abdullah said, looking across at his brother. “We have lost all that. We have closed the minds of our people.” Ahmed smiled, remembering the Arab Development Report he had left with his brother.
“This is all about the Wahhabist clerics trying to do now what even the al Sauds would not do,” Hakim added.
“Let me tell you about Wahhabism,” Abdullah replied. “They won’t even use that phrase, you know, but they say it is the natural way of Islam. Ninety percent of Islam rejects Wahhabism. Muslims who live here should be able to do so as well, if they choose. Our government should not be telling citizens which of the Muslim scholars are right and wrong on interpreting the Holy Koran or the Hadith.”
“If you say that out there, they will try to have you killed,” Ghassan cautioned. “Bin Tayer fears that you will run against him when we have the elections. That is why he keeps postponing, why his people say only the righteous should be allowed to vote. You are in danger, Abdullah.”
“The Corps of Protectors is solidly behind you, Sheik.” It was General Khalid, the commander of the united force that was made up of what had been both the Saudi army and the national guard.
“Maybe your men are behind him, but half your weapons don’t work anymore. And they are bringing in more Chinese. And how do we know they will keep the Chinese in the desert with the missiles?” Ghassan shot back.
Abdullah turned quickly. “What’s this, Ghassan? More Chinese?”
“I haven’t had time to tell you yet, Abdullah. My men have confirmed that there are preparations at ports in both the Gulf and the Red Sea, preparations to offload and billet more Chinese. Others will be flying in. This is no troop rotation. These are more.”
Abdullah stroked his short beard. “The Shura has not approved this. Why do we need more?”
Ahmed, who had sat back listening to the exchange, now leaned in. “Maybe to protect nuclear weapons?”
“No,” Abdullah said emphatically. “We have not agreed to request nuclear warheads for the missiles.”
“Maybe bin Tayer has, behind the back of the Shura,” Hakim wondered aloud.
“No,” Abdullah repeated. Then he turned to General Khalid. “Find out.”
“Are you Russell MacInytre?” A young man with a British accent was approaching the taxi.
MacIntyre paid the driver and turned. “Who the hell are you?” “So sorry, sir,” the young man said, presenting a business card.
“Clive Norman, British Consulate. I am from the Exchanges Office.”
“Look, I have an appointment here,” MacIntyre said, brushing past. “With Admiral Adams. Yes, I know, sir. There’s been a change in plans and he’d like you to join him at one of our facilities nearby.”
MacIntyre examined the business card and looked at what was undoubtedly a young Brit. He doubted that he was looking at a terrorist or kidnapper. “We have a consulate car and driver here, sir, if you’d please…” Norman pointed at a Jaguar with diplomatic plates parked down the drive. “The admiral said you could telephone him to verify.”
MacIntyre was unsure but said, “All right. Let’s go.” The car drove a short distance and pulled up to a gate with two uniformed guards from one of the many Dubai security firms. Inside the compound, the car stopped in front of a large domed villa, one of the shining, oversized homes that lined the beach.
Clive Norman led the way up the stairs and into the high-arched marble foyer. MacIntyre could see through to the glass doors in the back and the Gulf beyond. He was still unsure of what was going on. “They are dining on the patio in back, sir. Please go right ahead through.”
MacIntyre walked ahead and pressed open the door to the outside. “Rusty, over here!” It was Brian Douglas. He was bald, there were bags under his eyes, and his nose looked to be a different color from the rest of his face. His polo shirt was too tight…but it was Brian Douglas.
“I believe you know of Admiral Adams.”
MacIntyre shook hands with the Navy officer and turned to Douglas. “It’s good to see you. Both of you, actually. There was a time last night when I thought I would never see either of you, ever.”
“Yes, sorry I stood you up. There were… complications, but I’m here. And I just got off the secure line with Sir Dennis, who has authorized me to brief both of you on what I found out. On condition that you not report on it, yet. You’ll see why.”
“Gentlemen, your lunch is served,” Clive Norman said from a table nearby. “I will leave you alone, sir, but buzz if you need anything.”
Almost an hour later, Norman responded to a buzz by bringing more coffee.
“I know the position it puts both of you in, considering it is your government, or part of it, that seems to be involved,” Douglas said, pouring. “But is it really so hard to believe?”